Blood and Roses
by GirlGoingSolo
Summary: Set in the 7th book but magically canon-compliant in the end, Draco has doubts about being a Death Eater and accidentally kidnaps Hermione, who then seduces him, but they wind up falling in love and she has to save his life ...
1. Prologue

**A/N:**

**This is my new attempt at a story I tried to do a while ago that I got bored of. It's set in the 7****th**** book, but will very cleverly (I think so anyway) fit in with canon in the end, then go on to the next generation. As it says in the summary, Draco has doubts, accidentally kidnaps Hermione and then she decides to seduce him. Haha. Anyway, hope you enjoy it! And please, please review and tell me what you think :)**

Hermione Granger shivered as she looked down at him.

He was sleeping, his white blond hair tousled and a small frown creasing his brow. There were deep circles under his eyes. With long lashes cast down on his cheeks, he looked almost childlike. She'd never seen him looking so innocent and vulnerable.

With an effort, she pulled her eyes away from him. Her hands were cold and she had to clench them into fists to stop them trembling.

Scenes from the recent past raced through her mind; the day he apparated right on top of her and changed her life, their first night together, the kisses, the love and then later, the blood streaming from his chest as he died.

She swallowed. Could she really do this? Break the one rule she knew was most dangerous to break? And break her own heart in the process?

All for Draco Malfoy?

Her resolve hardened. It wasn't a question of _could_. She _had _to. Draco Malfoy _had _to live.

She reached out and did it.

**A/N: PLEASE REVIEW! **


	2. The Mask

**A/N:**

**Ok chapter 1, kind of melodramatic lol but I hope you enjoy anyway :) It may seem a bit of a slow start in this and the next chapter or so, but they aren't too long and there will be plenty action and romance after, so I hope you're not all put off! Haha, enjoy …**

Draco pulled the mask from his face and took a moment to drag his sleeve across his forehead. Tonight's events had left him numb with shock; a cold sweat beaded his brow. The mask weighed heavy in his hands. He looked down at it, repressing a shudder as the hollow eye sockets stared back at him.

Dead eyes. Unsettlingly like those of the Death Eater he had killed tonight.

It had been accidental. He'd been about to leave the Ministry, relieved that nothing had gone wrong and at the same time frustrated that his excursion had once again been fruitless. The man had walked straight into him.

No warning, nothing.

If he was discovered, it was all over. The lives of his friends, family and countless others would be forfeit. He would have to watch as Voldemort killed them one by one, knowing he would be the last to die.

He had panicked.

He didn't remember saying the words. One searing moment of fear, the next …

Those dead eyes, staring up at him.

He shivered. The words rung in his head like a death knell.

_Avada kedavra. _

Irreversible. Unforgivable.

An owl hooted outside his window and he flinched violently.

_Just an owl, Draco. Relax._

Pulling himself together, he rose to his feet. It would do no good to brood over what he had done. It was all for good in the end. The lesser of two evils. Dumbledore had, at least, taught him that.

He tossed the mask onto the bed and stretched, feeling the ache in his muscles. Then he drew his wand to perform the spells that had, in the last few months, become ritual.

It took a while to stop his hands trembling.

With a few well-wrought charms, the mask was concealed under a loose stone in the floor. He smoothed the moth-eaten silk carpet carefully back over it, eyeing his work appraisingly.

Once done, he pulled off his black cloak and robes and quickly changed into his cotton pyjama trousers. Goosebumps prickled on his skin in the chill night air.

Quickly, he hung the black clothes in the wardrobe and rummaged around in a drawer, swearing under his breath as his numb fingers fumbled noisily over its contents.

If anyone heard him …

At length, he withdrew a tiny crystal vial. Tomorrow morning, it would join the others under the loose stone.

Grimacing slightly, he put his wand to his temple and drew out a glistening strand of memory. It shimmered in the moonlight as he prodded it down into the vial, which he hastily stoppered.

_Almost done. _He let out a shaky sigh. The paranoia that his nighttime endeavours engendered was almost not worth it. Almost.

He padded over to the four poster bed, eager for the relief it would shortly bring, and tucked the crystal vial into a bedside drawer. Wearily, he slid under the silk sheets.

One last thing to do.

Moonlight gleamed on his wand as he pointed it into his own face.

"_Obliviate._"

**A/N: please review, pretty please :) with a great fat Toblerone on top. **


	3. Memories

**A/N:**

**Lots of getting inside Draco's mind here, just to help everyone understand his mindset … hope it's ok :) **

Dawn broke early, pink and gold streaking the pearly sky.

Draco hissed as his bare feet touched the floor. The stone was like ice. Teeth chattering, he pulled on his dressing gown and tiptoed down the corridor to the bathroom.

Wormtail's snores issued gratingly from behind his bedroom door. Draco wrinkled his nose in distaste. No-one in the Manor cared much for the fetid little man, apart from the Dark Lord himself, who held him unusually close.

_Probably because he's a treacherous little swine who'd betray anyone as soon as look at them. _

Thankfully, the bathroom was deserted. Draco locked the door before switching the hot shower tap on full blast.

He surveyed himself in the vast mirror and frowned. Something was wrong. He had gone to bed early last night. So why were his eyes ringed with deep grey shadows? He looked pallid and ill.

With a shrug, he dismissed it. Anyone would look ill with the Dark Lord threatening to kill them every few hours.

Before long the bathroom was filled with billowing steam, obscuring the black marble walls and silver serpent taps.

Draco let the water stream over his tired body, easing away the aches in his muscles.

Funny, that. He hadn't done anything physically demanding in the last few days.

After showering, he splashed his face with cold water and towelled himself dry.

Back in his bedroom, he dressed quickly in jeans and a dark shirt. He glanced in the mirror, again perturbed by the dark circles under his eyes, and dug in the bedside drawer for his wand.

Cold glass met his hand.

He recoiled. An inexplicable sense of foreboding crept over him.

Slowly, he drew the object out.

"What the …" he breathed. The insubstantial silver mist inside the vial swirled mysteriously, beckoning him in.

Draco hesitated. Some part of his subconscious told him he didn't want to know its secrets. But it must be important, for someone to have put it there.

He stood for a moment, torn by indecision.

Then he ran to the cupboard and pulled out an old chipped ceramic bowl.

With shaking hands, he set the bowl on his bed and decanted the swirling memory into it.

Was he doing the right thing? He took a deep breath, and before he could change his mind, bent his head toward the memory.

It did not take long.

A few minutes later he sank, gasping, against the side of the bed.

Of course he remembered now. The whole stupid thing.

The elaborate memory loss set-up was a precaution against Voldemort's Legilimency skills. If Voldemort found out, Draco had no doubt his life would be cut abruptly short.

But despite the risk involved, the thought of stopping made his stomach turn. Cowering away here like a frightened rabbit felt ten times worse than actually _doing_ something, albeit something very dangerous.

It was being forced to torture Ollivander that had done it. The others, the strangers, didn't matter as much, but as he watched the old man – the man who had beamed as he sold Draco a wand – writhe before him as Voldemort laughed in pleasure, something inside Draco had snapped.

That night as he lay in bed, he had though it over. He had to do _something_. There must be some way to bring Voldemort down and end this terror.

With a jolt, he had remembered all Potter's secret meetings with Dumbledore. And the way that Dumbledore had appeared on the top of the tower on the night of his death, mysteriously weakened. _With Potter_.

It had taken a while, but finally Draco had resolved to find out what Potter and his friends were doing. Maybe even help them. Even though the thought of _helping _Potter was about as pleasant as sticking pins in his eyes.

_Potter_. He ground his teeth.

Potter had everything. He was under his own control. No-one to answer to. And still, everyone felt _so sorry _for him. Tragic, they called it. Poor boy, all alone in the world.

Being alone would be such a blessing. For his whole life, Draco had been groomed to act, think and live like a Death Eater. Not a chance to make his own life and break free of the stigma surrounding the name of Malfoy.

To one side of the wizarding world, they were despicable. A family immersed in the Dark Arts for centuries upon centuries, obsessed with their pureblood status.

To the other, they were a laughing stock, disgraced by Lucius's failure to capture the prophecy. A family of cowards.

_Well. I can't deny that._

Draco scowled. That was another thing about Potter that he envied. The ability to go about this war with nothing to hide. Of course, they had to do everything in secret, but everyone knew without a doubt what side they were on.

He, on the other hand, was expected to revel in the Dark Lord's presence. It was an _honour_ to do his bidding.

And Draco did his bidding. He couldn't deny it. He was scared. Scared of what Voldemort might do if Draco disobeyed.

Did that make him a coward? Wanting nothing but the Dark Lord's downfall and at the same time doing exactly as he commanded?

When he was younger, the idea of being a Death Eater had been his highest ideal. A way to inspire fear and respect, to be followed and admired.

He had revelled in his family's association with Voldemort. Pride from being part of something he did not fully understand had given him confidence and made him arrogant.

_Stupid child._

He understood all too well now. Reality was nothing like his malicious, juvenile conception.

He grimaced and pulled himself to his feet. All this had seemed like a good idea at the time. Something to help lift the shroud of fear hanging over the wizarding world.

_Well. _

If he was completely honest with himself, it was more like something to help assuage the mantle of guilt that weighed so heavy on his shoulders.

But to no avail.

He felt worse than ever, now. All his efforts so far had been a miserable failure. He had discovered nothing, and reliving last night's venture was more painful than the rest.

He shook his head to clear the unwelcome images from his mind, but they lingered like cobwebs.

_Don't be stupid,_ he told himself. _I'm no saint, but I'm not a demon either. _

After a slight pause, he shoved the crystal vial under the loose stone and quickly rewove the enchantments around it.

**A/N: review review review review reviiieeeeeww please. **


	4. Ghost Thief

**A/N:**

**Draco gets scared and Bellatrix gets pissed :) which puts events in motion ….**

It was hard to go down to breakfast, knowing that Bellatrix would be there. All she seemed to live for was to make people miserable. Even her own sister disliked her.

He consoled himself with the fact that the Dark Lord was gone, off on one of his long and unexplained absences. When he was away, the veil of fear mantling the house lifted somewhat, and a measure of normalcy returned.

"Good morning, princeling," Bellatrix sneered as he sat down at the table. Her cheeks were flushed with anticipation.

Beside her, her pale sister placed a restraining hand on Draco's arm.

He shrugged it off angrily and reached for the cereal. What he would give to curse Bellatrix, straight in the face. One good jinx, as painful as possible.

The corner of his mouth curled upwards slightly as he imagined it.

Bellatrix looked put out by his lack of retaliation.

"The Dark Lord should be back soon. He said he would not be longer than a week." Her lips twitched. "I daresay _some _of us will be pleased to see him."

Draco ignored her jibe, venting his resentment on his cereal instead.

"We are all his servants, Bella," murmured Narcissa, though her lips barely moved, "though _you _seem to favour him above that."

Bellatrix hissed. "And what if I do, Cissy? The Dark Lord needs all the support he can garner. What state of affairs is this, when even his own subjects begin to turn against him?"

Narcissa stiffened and a hint of red coloured her pale cheeks. For the first time, she met her sister's eyes.

Draco watched, interested.

"What do you mean by that, Bella? If you mean Lucius—"

"Oh, don't be stupid." Bellatrix snapped, "Lucius is the _last _person on the Dark Lord's mind at the moment. Though I daresay he will remember him soon enough," she added snidely. Narcissa furiously opened her mouth to interrupt, but Bellatrix waved a contemptuous hand and continued.

"All I _meant_ was that the Dark Lord is increasingly concerned that people he though loyal to him are beginning to deviate from the path he has laid out for them. For example, this _Ghost Thief_, as they're calling him. A lot of people are convinced he's nothing more than one of ours gone over to the other side. Despicable," she spat.

Draco tensed. The Daily Prophet had picked up on his escapades fairly quickly and there had been numerous small articles, but he had hoped they would go unnoticed amongst the bigger stories.

Narcissa sighed, her eyes once again fixed on the table. "You know that's only a myth Bella—"

"A myth!" Bella snarled. "It's no fairytale, Cissy! The Thief killed last night at the Ministry. Harkiss is dead. Look, there's even a picture."

Draco's stomach twisted. A picture? That was impossible.

Heart beating uncomfortably against his ribs, he reached out and snatched the paper from Bellatrix.

"Give it to me."

"Hey!" Bellatrix flushed irritably and glared at Narcissa. "Teach your brat some manners Cissy, or Nagini will have him for tea. You should watch your step, little prince," she crooned.

Draco hardly heard her as he riffled through the pages. Finally, he found it.

The article was right in the middle of the second page. A bold headline announced, "_Thief kills at Ministry last night_".

He felt the blood drain out of his already ashen face. Below the headline was a picture, alarmingly accurate. The caption read, "_Artist's rendition of the Ghost Thief, drawn from the memories of a Ministry worker who glimpsed the Thief on Tuesday night_".

Draco swallowed nervously, hoping his expression was approximately neutral. If Bellatrix noticed his reaction …

She was not an unintelligent woman. She was perfectly capable of adding two and two and coming up with four ... And he dreaded to think what might happen if she did.

"I'll have that back, thanks," snapped Bellatrix as she ripped the newspaper from his hands.

He scowled at her, but his spirits rose slightly. She did not seem to have noticed anything. All the same, he finished his cereal and left the table as soon as possible.

Climbing the stairs back to his bedroom, the thought occurred to him; perhaps it was time to leave Malfoy Manor.

**A/N: hope you're enjoying, please do review and tell me even if you hate it :)**


	5. Leaving

**A/N:**

**THE BIG TALK. No, not the sex talk. The life and death talk. Haha. **

"Mother?"

It was after dinner and the house was lit with flickering candlelight. Bellatrix was safely out of earshot downstairs in the living room.

Draco knocked softly on his mother's bedroom door.

"Come in Draco, dear."

He pushed open the door and entered the room, shutting it quietly behind him. His mother was reclining on the four poster bed, reading a book. She looked up expectantly at him, and patted the edge of the bed.

"What is it, darling?"

Draco remained silent as he sat down beside her, avoiding eye contact. He didn't know where to start.

"Draco?" She sounded concerned. "What's wrong?"

"Mother—"

He frowned, distractedly picking at a loose thread in the bedcover as he tried to order his thoughts.

She waited, silently. Seconds ticked by and still he could not pluck up the courage to look at her.

"Draco?"

"I have to leave," he blurted out.

"What? But … but, Draco—"

She stared at him in shock, unable to grasp what he had just said.

Hating himself for putting her through this, Draco met her gaze reassuringly.

"Leave here. Malfoy Manor."

"Leave _here? _But why? You cannot leave here Draco; the Dark Lord would never allow it! You would be killed!"

She blanched, her already ashen face turning stark white. Even her lips drained of all colour.

Draco laid a hand on her arm to reassure her.

"Please mother, you have to help me." He was ashamed to hear the pleading tone of his voice, but he could not help it. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done it."

"Done what?"

He took a deep breath. "The Ghost Thief they've been talking about? That was _me_."

She stared at him, her pale eyes wide with shock. "But Draco, _why_?"

He shook his head, unable to look at her any longer. "I don't know. It's just … I couldn't _not_ do anything. When he made me … all the torturing …"

His throat tightened and he pulled savagely at the thread, struggling to repress the tears. Swallowing, he tried again.

"I can't stand everything being … like this anymore. I wanted to help make it stop. But now …"

In desperation, he looked up. "What can I _do?_ It can't be long before they begin to suspect … today at breakfast, I almost though Bellatrix would …"

"Hush, darling." Narcissa pulled him into a hug, resting her sharp chin on his head. Childishly, he surrendered to her embrace, finding scant comfort in her familiar smell. In all honesty, he thought, she was the only one in the world who truly loved him. His father was as kind as such a man could be, but his expectations were too much to live up to. Only Narcissa appreciated him for who he was; her only son.

"What can we do, what can we do?" she murmured, stroking his hair.

"You must leave, I suppose. It is as dangerous here for you now as it is out there. But how? If you left, just like that, the Dark Lord would surely murder us all, and hunt you down. We must be cleverer."

Draco jerked suddenly out of her grasp. "What if I was kidnapped? Or even killed? The Order wouldn't hesitate at either."

A feverish light burned in Narcissa's tear-filled eyes. "Yes! If they took you, the Dark Lord would care little, he has more important things on his mind. And he would not harm us, because we would have nothing to do with it."

Then her face fell. "But how could we do it?"

Draco racked his brains. "We could lure them here somehow …"

"But how?"

"I don't know."

Silence stretched as they sat together, thinking.

Then, a morbid idea hit Draco.

"Alastor Moody's body."

His mother stared at him.

"The Order are odd that way, mother. They wouldn't want us to have it. We could Confund someone to let slip it's here …"

"That might work … his death was a hard blow to them, after all."

Excited now, Draco gripped her hand tightly. "Who could we Confund? Wormtail would be the easiest option, but he doesn't go out much and the Dark Lord keeps close tabs on him, he might notice."

Narcissa did not seem to share his enthusiasm; she looked frightened. "I suppose … Yaxley? But he is also close to the Dark Lord … what about Thorfinn? Or Rowle? They are almost never in his meetings."

Draco nodded slowly. "Next time one of them comes in here, one of us could Confund them, and tell them what to do. It wouldn't take much, the Order has ears everywhere."

"And then wait for them to come here? We would have to make sure they were discovered before they got away, and try to keep Bellatrix out of it. She might notice something. If Severus was here it would be better … he, at least, is sympathetic to us."

Draco nodded mutely, suddenly scared by the enormity of the task. But he could not repress a flicker of anticipation. It would be so good to be free of the Dark Lord's clutches.

"Thank you for helping me, mother." He hugged her tightly, trying to convey that everything would be fine.

_I hope._

She stifled a sob. "Draco?"

"Yes mother?"

"Promise me you will stay safe?"

"I promise."

She gave him a wan smile. "Let us hope then, that all goes well. Or that Harry Potter does his job and disposes of the Dark Lord before you have to leave. The boy is an arrogant fool, but if he somehow manages to free us from this fear …"

She trailed off suddenly, her eyes wide with anxiety at her own duplicitous words.

Draco hugged her again, trying his best to make her feel better. "It can't be long, mother. I'm sure everything will be fine soon."

"For all our sakes, I hope so."

He smiled half-heartedly. "Goodnight, mother."

"Goodnight, Draco."

**A/N: you know what I'm going to say, so I wont say it :)**


	6. First Blood

**A/N:**

**AND THE STORY BEGINS! And shortly hereafter, the violence, sex and everything that will make this worth reading. **

They did not have to wait long.

Thorfinn came to the house the very next day, looking for food and rest. Narcissa made sure Bellatrix was out the way, so Draco could carry out their plan. As Thorfinn lounged in a chair at the kitchen table, grumbling about his day's work, Draco cursed him from behind.

Six days after he had Confunded Thorfinn, the Order came.

Wednesday morning started like any other normal Wednesday morning, apart from the fact that Bellatrix was there.

"I must go into Gringott's this morning," Draco heard her remark to Narcissa as he made his way down the stairs. "I need to withdraw some gold, and I want to check on that little cup the Dark Lord gave me to keep. I know they say Gringott's is the safest place in the world, but I don't trust those horrible little goblins …"

"I quite agree," murmured Narcissa.

Bellatrix glanced up as Draco entered the room.

"Draco, darling," she exclaimed delightedly as he sat down, "I have some wonderful news for you."

Draco's heart sank. There was a malevolent glint in her eye as she leaned towards him. Coupled with the fact that anything Bellatrix thought good was generally very bad, her remark did not bode well.

He decided to ignore her as he battled with the lid on the quince jam jar.

Undeterred, she continued.

"We have news that the Dark Lord will return tomorrow!"

"What?"

He froze, his heart sinking.

"Oh come on, Draco," she said, feigning disappointment, "surely you must be pleased? You do _enjoy_ his company, don't you?"

Draco felt blood flood into his face at her deliberate provocation. He glared at her irately.

"If you think I—"

Without warning, the jam jar in his hand shattered, sending jam mixed with shards of glass flying through the dining room.

"Draco!" shrieked Bellatrix. She leapt to her feet, knocking her chair over. "Look what you've done, you stupid child!"

Her robes were ruined, her hair and face splattered with jam. "Now I shall have to go and change! I can't go to Gringott's like this!"

She stormed out of the room, cuffing him sharply round the back of the head as she left.

_Well, at least that wiped the smile off her face,_ Draco thought grimly as he picked shards of glass out of his hair.

His finger throbbed sharply and he jerked it away. Blood welled from a cut.

"Shit," he muttered.

"Draco," said Narcissa reprovingly, "don't swear."

"Sorry," he replied automatically, searching for something to staunch the bleeding. He stood up to leave the table. "Excuse me."

"Draco," she grabbed his sleeve, "you mustn't worry that the Dark Lord will be back so soon. We will find a way to get you out, I promise!"

He smiled weakly and tugged his sleeved out of her grasp.

Draco had still not managed to repair the cut in his finger by the time Bellatrix had left for Gringott's in a stormy mood.

"_Reparo_," he muttered poking his finger with his wand. The edges of the cut glowed faintly, but did not heal.

Pulling a face, he gave up. His mother could have mended the cut in a few seconds, but he was not in the mood for being cosseted.

Bellatrix had left the bathroom in a mess. Her sticky robes lay in a heap on the floor, which was covered in water.

Draco vanished the water with a wave of his wand. Then, with a smirk, he vanished the robes too.

Once the bathroom was back to its normal state, he stripped off his jam covered jeans and t-shirt and siphoned the jam off with his wand.

Then he stepped into the shower.

He stayed there longer than necessary, letting the hot water lull his fears. When he began to feel uncomfortably hot, he switched the shower off and wrapped a towel around his waist.

He didn't want to leave the refuge of the bathroom just yet. More to give himself something to do than out of necessity, he shaved and patted on some aftershave, wincing as it stung.

The bathroom was still full of steam, so he opened a window and directed the steam out of it with his wand. As he stood by the window, he caught a glimpse of himself in the freshly defogged mirror.

The watery sunlight cast the thin, pearly scars on his chest into sharp relief.

He scowled and walked over to survey himself in front of the mirror, absentmindedly tracing the scars with his index finger.

Snape had been quick to heal him last year, but not even Madam Pomfrey had been able to do anything about the vivid red scars. Over the past year, they had faded to almost white, only just paler than the rest of his skin. The slight ridges they formed were now familiar to his touch, but he still hadn't got used to them.

He supposed he should hate them, really. They were just reminders that Potter had beaten him in a fight. Not that Potter hadn't paid for it with half a million detentions, but still.

He traced the outline of the longest scar, all the way from mid-stomach to collar-bone. It caused a shallow indent in his musculature.

Funnily enough, he didn't hate the scars nearly as much as he loathed their creator. They were, in a certain morbid sort of way, fascinating.

Pushing his damp hair back from his face, he noticed a small cut on his forehead from the jam jar. He laughed at the irony.

The whole world was using Harry Potter and his scar as an icon of the anti-Voldemort movement, and here _he_ was; Draco Malfoy, slave and minion to Voldemort, with a cut in almost exactly the same place as Potter's.

_Except that it's from a jam jar, not a deadly curse. _

He smirked, but as he continued to stare at his reflection, the smirk faded.

_Draco Malfoy, slave and minion to Voldemort. _

_Slave _didn't even begin to describe it. The word _slave_ implied that he was a human being, with thoughts and feelings.

To Voldemort, of course, he was much less than that. Nothing more than an instrument. A device of torture, and perhaps a little entertainment.

_Well, _he thought savagely, _not for much longer. _

The thought gave him a sort of grim satisfaction.

...

The rest of the day passed uneventfully. Evening was beginning to fall as Draco paced in his bedroom.

That was another thing he hated about being here. The _boredom_. Life here seemed to fluctuate between abject terror and complete tedium, and it was not a good combination.

He kicked a discarded book out of his way and continued pacing, unable to lay down and relax. Voldemort would be back tomorrow, and he would have to make absolutely sure that there were no incriminating memories in his mind. That meant more Obliviation, which he hated doing to himself. The feeling of not being in control was incredibly frustrating.

The sun slowly sank below the horizon, setting it afire with red and gold. Finally, Draco collapsed on his bed, exhausted.

The whole thing had really not been worth the effort and he now wished he hadn't done any of it. He sighed, and got slowly to his feet.

The bag he had packed a few days earlier lay at the foot of his bed. It contained spare clothes, the mask and all the crystal vials containing his memories, his toothbrush and various small and probably unnecessary items. He picked it up.

_May as well unpack it, now._

He was just unfastening the top when he heard her scream.

"Draco!"

He straightened up, as if electrified.

"Mother?"

"Draco, quickly!"

There was a cry of "Stupefy!" and a deafening bang; crimson light briefly illuminated the dark lawn.

Slinging the bag over his shoulder, Draco snatched his wand from the bedside table and began to run. He slipped on the stairs and fell the last few, then quickly picked himself up and dashed for the front door.

The members of the Order were almost at the gate. Only Snape, Wormtail and Narcissa were holding them off. Spells were flying in every direction, bursts of coloured light illumining the night sky. "Draco!" shrieked Narcissa as she saw him running towards them.

Someone roared "stupefy!" again, and Draco threw up a shield in response. The spell dissipated as it met his, sending red streams of light rippling through the darkness. Almost blinded, Draco stumbled.

"Draco, quickly!"

Narcissa sounded almost hysterical. Draco blinked rapidly, trying to clear his vision of the ghostly light-lines imprinted on his retinas.

Suddenly, the sound of shrieking metal filled the air; the gates had broken. Narcissa grabbed his arm and whispered, "Go quickly, before they leave. I will take care of my memories."

He met her eyes briefly. "I love you, mother."

"I love you, Draco. Now go, quickly!"

Draco left her standing on the lawn as he sprinted through the gates behind Snape and Wormtail. One of the Order members was dragging Moody's lifeless body; Draco headed straight for them. Just as they began to twist into nothingness, Draco caught hold of the hem of the person's sleeve.

He heard a shrill scream, and Snape shouting his name.

Then he was enveloped in crushing blackness.

**A/N: oooooh exciting :)**


	7. Changing Her Life Forever

**A/N:**

**Enter femme fatale (sort of) Hermione. And the beginning of the sex and romance …**

Shreds of light and colour flashed past him in the rushing darkness. A nameless roaring pressed on his eardrums, deafening him. Strange sights whipped past his vision, vanishing in a heartbeat and leaving only a vague aftertaste of recognition.

Draco clung to his only point of anchorage, fighting the nauseous feeling in the pit of his stomach. His body felt as if it was being slowly crushed.

Without warning, the shriek of wind in his ears grew quieter, and the darkness began to lift.

With all his strength, he wrenched his hand away from whoever's sleeve he had grabbed.

It felt as though he was attached to a stretched rubber band that had reached its elastic limit; his forward travel ceased as abruptly as if he slammed into a brick wall, and he was yanked back into the vortex of darkness behind him.

Without an anchor or a clear thought in his head about where he wanted to go, he was battered from side to side by invisible forces.

He didn't know to make it stop. _Think! _Something flashed into his mind – a woman's face. He latched onto it. The darkness lurched and spat him out.

Draco hit the ground hard. A woman screamed, and he felt his body collide with hers. They tangled on the ground.

He grabbed her wrists instinctively, forcing her wand away as he reached for his own. Searing pain ripped through his hand, but then he saw her face and he went blank with shock.

Only for a second. Then his mind made the connection, and he threw up a shield just before the stunning spell hit him. Holding his wand to her neck, he jerked her to her feet, turning to face his attackers.

Potter and Weasley. Their faces bore identical expressions of shock and horror. Granger twisted in his arms, trying to break free. He grabbed her hair and wrenched her head back.

"Put your wands down."

They didn't move.

"Put them down, or I swear I'll kill her."

Neither of them lowered their wands. Potter spoke first. "What are you doing here Malfoy? Who sent you?"

"No-one sent me!" Draco snarled. He was still dizzy. He didn't know what to do. Try and convince them to let him join them? They'd never believe him, not in a million years. Potter had watched him threaten to kill Dumbledore only a few months ago. But if he just left, they would tell the Order they had seen him here, and the spy in the Order would tell Voldemort, and Voldemort would seek revenge upon Narcissa.

Draco made a split-second decision.

"Tell anyone you've seen me, and I'll take your girlfriend to the Dark Lord, Weasley."

Then he turned on the spot, Granger screamed, and Potter and Weasley vanished in a swirl of darkness.

**A/N: oh how deliciously anti-heroic of him :) LOL**


	8. Seduction

**A/N:**

**AND BEGIN THE SEDUCTION. And the sex. I have to write one of these without mentioning sex, it's getting chronic.**

"You're bleeding."

Draco looked down at Granger, alarmed. As soon as they had arrived in the forest near the hotel where he had spent his twelfth birthday, he'd tied her hands and feet with a quick spell, and pocketed her wand. It was only now that he had noticed the large bloodstain spreading across her stomach.

Shit. He hadn't meant to hurt her.

"It's not _me_, you fool," she hissed.

"What?"

"_Your hand._"

He looked down at his hands and cried out in horror. It wasn't her blood, it was his. Where his left finger had been, there was a gaping hole. Blood was pouring down his wrist and drenching his sleeve. As soon as he saw it, the pain hit him, and he staggered, clutching his wrist.

"You must have splinched yourself before you fell on me," she said acidly. "If you give me my wand back I can fix it."

"Shut up!" Draco shouted at her. He couldn't think. Pain stabbed through his hand.

"Reparo!" He pointed his wand at the wound. There was a flash and the smell of burnt flesh filled the air. He screamed and doubled over, fighting the urge to be sick.

"Help me!" he spat at her.

"The spell is _Episkey_," she said. Her voice shook slightly.

Draco pointed his wand at his hand again, trying to stop trembling. "_Episkey_."

Immediately, the pain lessened slightly. Skin flowed over the wound. It looked scabbed and unhealthy, but the bleeding stopped. Draco sat heavily on the ground.

"Oh my God. My _finger_."

"Now you've got nowhere to put your wedding ring."

"Shut _up!_" He pushed himself to his feet, siphoning the blood off his arm and shirt with his wand.

What now? He had lost a finger and kidnapped – _kidnapped _– a girl. And not just any girl, but one of _Harry Potter's_ best friends.

"Oh my _God_." He ran his good hand through his hair. He had no idea where to go now. Or what to do with the girl.

"Are you going to let me go now?"

He ignored her.

"You really haven't thought this out very well, have you? Did you plan to kidnap me, or was it a spur of the moment thing? And how did you manage to find us?"

Despite the situation, he fought off a hysterical smile. She never had known when to shut up.

"Are you going to answer me?"

"No," he said shortly. He knew the answer to her last question, but he didn't want to admit it. The reason he had found them was because the face that had flashed into his mind the first time he'd apparated had been _hers_. He didn't know why he'd thought of her then. It made him feel uncomfortable.

"Ok." They had to sleep somewhere and there was a hotel nearby. No-one would notice if they stayed a night or two.

Feeling somewhat awkward, he bent down and picked her up in his arms. She screamed and started to struggle. "I'm not going to hurt you!" he said hastily. She screamed again. "Don't touch me! Put me _down!_"

He rolled his eyes. Maybe he should gag her. For the third time that day, he turned on the spot and a few heartbeats later, they were standing in a deserted room in the hotel. He sighed in relief. It would have taken some explaining if there had been people in the room.

Quickly, he checked the door was locked and cast the necessary protective spells around the room. He couldn't let her apparate out, or let any muggles in.

"Where are we?" Granger asked.

"Switzerland. A hotel."

"_What?_" She started screaming at him, and he tuned out.

The room was plush and beautifully furnished. There was a large four-poster bed, complete with silk curtains, along with a sofa, flat-screen TV, writing table and a mini-fridge. The en-suite contained a large shower, hot tub, double basin and toilet.

"Can I take a shower?"

"What?" He stared at her, amazed at how quickly she had calmed down.

"A shower?" She looked at him like he was stupid. "It's just, I'm covered in dirt and I haven't had a shower for days. And your blood stinks worse than a mudblood's."

He scowled at the barb. "Whatever."

With a wave of his wand, the ropes on her hands and feet fell off. As he did so, their eyes locked and his stomach lurched. He looked away quickly, feigning nonchalance. "There's towels over there." He waved a hand, trying to quell the butterflies in his stomach. _Why_ was he reacting like this to her? He pushed his hair out of his eyes. It was probably just the shock of splinching himself.

…

Hermione pulled her clothes of quickly and stuffed some toilet paper into the keyhole to make sure he couldn't watch her. It would be just like Draco Malfoy to spy on her in the shower.

She snorted and turned the hot tap on full. The steam and hot water were soothing and helped order her thoughts. There was no point looking for a way out; he'd cast every protective enchantment she knew. She was grudgingly impressed. The only way she could get away from him was to hit him over the head with a large blunt object, and there weren't too many of those lying around.

Despite the fact that she knew she should at least be somewhat shaken, she felt oddly calm. As for the moment, she was almost sure she was safe. She still didn't know _why _he had taken her, but his words as they had disapparated reassured her slightly; _tell anyone you've seen me, and I'll take your girlfriend to the Dark Lord_. That meant he didn't intend to take her there now. Unless he was bluffing.

But something in his voice had convinced her he wasn't bluffing. And the fact that he had splinched himself, and the fact that he hadn't even called her a mudblood yet. He seemed shaken.

Hermione switched the shower off and pulled a towelling robe around herself. Yes, something had gone severely wrong for Draco Malfoy and she intended to find out what. Perhaps she could make this work to their advantage. If Malfoy was having doubts, he could be a useful source of information for the Order.

A slow smile curled her lips as she caught sight of her reflection in the partially fogged mirror. Childhood was far behind her. Beneath the thin white robe, her body was slender and her skin dewy from the shower. Her wet hair was dark and tousled and her eyes sparkled. If Malfoy was wavering, she could make him fall. And at the same time, seducing him had its own wicked charm; what better way to pay him back for everything he'd put her through?

Her smile widened and she tugged the neck of the bathrobe open to reveal a little cleavage. Then she unlocked the door and went to meet her kidnapper.

**A/N: HAHAHAHAHA this is going to be hilarious :)**


	9. Irresistible

**A/N:**

**Ok, firstly: WHY does this story have over 1000 hits, and only two reviews? It's appalling. *disapproving glare* Big thanks to those who did review. **

**Moving onwards. I tried to put as much sexual tension in this chapter as possible. Please do review and tell me if I managed. **

"I'm starving. Is there anything to eat here?"

Draco looked up from examining his splinched hand and did a double take. The woman leaning casually against the bathroom doorframe looked _nothing _like Granger. But it was definitely her.

He opened his mouth to say something, but only managed a strangled sort of grunt. Uncomfortably aware that his face was flushed bright pink, he turned his back on her, struggling to compose himself. Once he was sure his voice was going to come out normally, he said "I'll go find some in a minute."

She snorted, though he thought he detected an undercurrent of amusement in her tone.

Quickly, he stood up and left the room, making sure he locked the door behind him. His heart beating painfully fast, Draco sank down against the door and wiped beads of sweat of his upper lip.

God. He was _sweating_. He took a deep, shaky breath. Without warning, the image of Granger in nothing but a towelling robe flashed into his mind again, setting his heart racing. What was the _matter _with him?

He rubbed his eyes furiously. "Cut it _out_, Draco," he muttered to himself. He couldn't understand why he was reacting this way. He'd seen attractive women before.

But since when had Granger been attractive? Let alone a _woman_? She'd always been a skinny, bookish schoolgirl with big teeth and frizzy hair. But now, suddenly, she had womanly curves and – he felt the blood rush to his face as he thought it – _breasts_.

He shook his head, trying to get the image of her all wet from the shower out of his mind. "She's _Hermione Granger_," he told himself, "she's a fucking _schoolgirl_. A bookworm."

Still, the images wouldn't leave him. Her hair, dark, wet, tangled. The beads of moisture on her smooth, glowing skin. The round, firm curve of her breasts under –

"Jesus _Christ_, Draco!" he muttered, pulling himself to his feet, "get a fucking grip on yourself. This is Hermione fucking Granger we're dealing with."

What was she playing at, anyway? Wandering around almost naked? She wasn't even wearing a bra for fuck's sake. Immediately, his mind went into overdrive, imagining what she would have looked like if she hadn't been wearing that –

No. He didn't want to think about that. Except he was lying to himself, because he _did _want to think about it.

"Oh God." He wiped his damp forehead with the back of his sleeve, uncomfortably aware that his body was reacting to the pictures in his mind. The front of his jeans was bulging.

…

Hermione heard the scrape of a key in the lock and quickly positioned herself as provocatively as she could on the bed.

While Malfoy was out, she'd had time to brush her teeth and apply the complimentary body lotion all over her body. It must have been a posh hotel, because there was also a tiny bottle of _eau de toilette _on the bathroom counter, which she dabbed on her neck, wrists and between her breasts. It smelt of jasmine and roses, and something exotic, which she thought might have been saffron. Her hair was still damp at the ends, wavy without a hint of frizz, and her skin glowed softly from the body lotion.

As Malfoy came in the door, she let the bathrobe fall open slightly, revealing one smooth, toned thigh, and hid her face behind a magazine.

She heard him cough, and looked up in fake surprise.

"I've got some food, if you want it." He was holding two pizza boxes and a plastic bottle of coke.

"Oh, thanks." She put the magazine down and got up from the bed, arching her back suggestively as she did so. As she took the pizza from his unresisting hands, she glanced up into his eyes. Despite the fact that his face was still pink, he caught her gaze steadily, and she felt an unexpected flutter in her stomach. Slightly unnerved, she turned away and put the pizza down on the table.

"Are you going to eat?"

He shook his head. "I'm not hungry."

She shrugged. "Suit yourself."

The pizza steamed invitingly and as she took a slice, she realized she was ravenous. She ate her way through six slices before she noticed him watching her. She coloured, realising that in her hunger, she had momentarily forgotten her seductive act.

_Bollocks_, she thought. Not wanting to give him any form of reprieve, she began licking tomato sauce from the pizza off her fingers. She glanced up with the tip of her index finger in her mouth and widened her eyes, as though she had only just noticed him watching her.

"What?"

He looked away quickly, and she noted with satisfaction that he looked very flustered.

"Nothing." There was a pause. "Aren't you going to get dressed?"

She bit her lip, trying not to laugh at how awkward he sounded. "No, my clothes are dirty. I've got nothing else to wear."

"Couldn't you wash them?"

"Yes, but I'm tired. I'll do it tomorrow."

"But … what will you sleep in? You can't sleep in that."

A small smile tugged at her lips as she realised what a perfect idea he had given her. "Oh, I don't need nightclothes."

He stared at her, his lips slightly parted. His expression was pained. Glancing down, she saw why; the front of his jeans was bulging.

He noticed the direction of her gaze and leapt to his feet as though he had been stung. "Erm …" He muttered something incomprehensible about the bathroom and disappeared out of sight.

Hermione chuckled to herself. Her idea was working better than she had imagined. It was very obvious that Malfoy was attracted to her, physically at least. It wouldn't be long before she had him eating out of her hand.

Abruptly, she frowned. The look in his eyes as she had taken the pizza from him … maybe she needed to be careful how far she took this. Through his embarrassment, she'd seen something else. Determination? Something close to it, perhaps. For a moment, he'd looked at her with an almost predatory eye, as though considering giving into his arousal and …

She shuddered. What? Raping her? _Don't be ridiculous_, she chided herself. _Malfoy may be a nasty piece of work, but he's not a rapist_. Still, he was almost a full-grown man armed with two wands, and she was just a girl with no weapons except her charm and wits. She needed to be careful.

The bathroom door unlocked, and she spun round. There was a moment's awkward silence as they stared at each other. Then, Malfoy said "Do you want the bed?"

"What?"

"The bed?" he said, pointing to it. "Do you want to sleep in it? I can sleep on the sofa if you want the bed."

"Oh …" She was taken aback by his chivalry. "I'll have the bed then, I guess."

He shrugged and pulled some blankets out of the cupboard, along with a pillow from the bed. Glancing at the clock, Hermione realised with a shock that it was past 2 am. She turned to walk over to the bed, and froze with embarrassment. Malfoy was standing with his back to her by the sofa, shirtless. The muscles in his back bunched and rippled as he undid his belt to take off his jeans.

Not knowing where to look, Hermione quickly slid into the bed, removing her bathrobe as she did so. She turned away from him, making sure she was covered by the duvet.

Since when had Malfoy got so muscular? She'd never noticed how broad-shouldered he was. Perhaps it was the dark clothes he always wore. And since when had he been so tall? He looked well over six foot.

Butterflies stirred in the region of her navel. _Careful Hermione_, she thought inwardly, _you're supposed to be seducing him, not the other way round_.

**Ok now review please :D**

**Also, please let me know what you think of Hermione seducing Draco and inadvertently finding herself attracted to him because of it. **

**And please answer this question:**

**Which of the following would you NOT like to see in this story?**

**a) rape**

**b) forced touching, but then consensual sex**

**c) any display of force, even just a forced kiss**

**Currently I'm leaning towards forceful sexual situations, because of the nature of the story and the kidnap and Hermione overdoing the seduction etc. Please remember this story is rated M for a reason! So let me know what you think about it please :)**


	10. Cut

**Sorry, haven't written for ages! Been extremely busy. Hope you like :)**

Draco awoke to the sound of the shower running. He sighed, relieved that he would not have to face Granger just yet. He thoroughly regretted kidnapping her, but then what choice had he had?

He sat up slowly, his muscles aching from the uncomfortable night on the sofa. He hadn't slept well. In the dark, it was even more difficult to keep the images of her out of his mind and he'd lain awake for a good part of the night, reciting the Elemental Laws of Transfiguration to keep his mind off her. Then, when he'd finally got to sleep, she'd invaded his dreams.

He shivered, and got dressed. His clothes were still ripped and dusty, but he'd wash them later. Wandering around the room, he picked up a slice of last night's pizza, but then he remembered her licking it off her fingers last night and suddenly lost his appetite.

Exhausted, he sank down on the bed. Her bathrobe from last night lay beside him, and unthinkingly, he picked it up and sniffed it. God, she smelt good. Kind of flowery, with a hint of spice. Blood rushed to his face, and he dropped the robe as though it had burnt him.

What was he _doing_? Granger was his enemy. A means to stop Potter and Weasley ratting him out to the Order, and by default, the Dark Lord. He was using her as insurance, nothing more.

But he was attracted to her. He couldn't deny it. As well as his physical reactions to her – the way he went red whenever he looked at her, the way she set his heart racing, the way she _aroused _him – there was the fact that he couldn't get her out of his mind. Even when he was asleep.

Frustrated, he rose to his feet and picked up the bathrobe to put it back where he had found it. Just then, the bathroom door opened, and Granger stepped out, wearing only a towel that barely skimmed her knees.

He gaped at her, once again caught speechless. "Umm …" He could feel the blood rushing to his groin and for a moment was unable to think of anything else.

"That's my robe, thanks," she said, stretching out her hand for it.

"What? Oh yeah." He held it out to her, and as she took it, her fingers brushed his and he felt an electric current surge up his arm. He glanced up, only to find she was staring straight at him. At once, he noticed how dark her eyes were, that there was a light dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose, and that her lips were full, pink and moist.

Only when she stepped backwards, did he realised he'd moved involuntarily closer to her. He snapped his mouth shut and hastily retreated to the sofa, burying his nose in a magazine.

He did his best to ignore her for the rest of the day. Around lunchtime, he left the room to buy some more food for them, though he'd never felt less hungry. When he returned, he found to his great relief that she was dressed in jeans and a shirt, which looked as though she had cleaned them. But the shirt was thin and the two top buttons were missing, and he caught a glimpse of her red bra through it. And when he handed her the food, he caught a trace of her scent again, which sent his pulse skyrocketing.

He sat down on the sofa again and tried to read a magazine. Granger was over by the fridge, cutting slices of bread to make sandwiches. He jumped at the sound of her voice.

"Why did you kidnap me?"

"What?" He was surprised; she'd never voluntarily tried to have a conversation with him.

"Why did you kidnap me?"

He couldn't see her face, but he was sure she had just rolled her eyes. "Because … so that your _friends _wouldn't let the Dark Lord know where I am."

There was a pause as she appeared to consider this. He noticed with some discomfort that her jeans were tight, hugging her shapely curves.

"So … have you left him then?"

"What? Who?"

"The Dark Lord, have you left him?"

He sighed. "In a manner of speaking."

"Why?"

"I don't really want to discuss it, ok?"

She snorted. "Either you've left him or you haven't. And if you don't want him to find you, I'm inclined to think you don't support him anymore."

Draco scowled. "It's not that simple."

"Why?"

"Because …" He got up and began to pace back and forth. "Because … I killed a man."

"So?" She turned to face him, her eyes hard. "I'm sure you've done it before."

"What?" he snapped. "Of course I haven't killed anyone before, you stupid bitch, what do you take me for?"

Her face contorted in surprise and – though she hid it quickly – hurt. Draco ran a hand through his hair, shame prickling at his conscience. "Sorry," he muttered. "I don't – I mean, I know you think I'm a Death Eater, but he made me … he used me …" He caught his breath, painfully aware of the pleading tone of his voice. "It was a Death Eater that I killed. That's why."

He looked up and met her gaze. Her face was blank with surprise; she hadn't been expecting that.

"But … how? And why?"

"I don't want to talk about it," he mumbled, ashamed of how much he'd told her.

She gasped suddenly, and hissed "shit!"

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing, I just cut my finger … ow."

"Let me see." He strode over to her and took her hand. The cut was deep. She was still holding the bloody knife in one hand, and he half expected her to try and use it on him, but as he glanced at her face, she dropped it with a clatter.

Still holding her hand in his, he dug in his pocket for his wand. She tensed, and he looked up in surprise. She expected him to hurt her. He felt ashamed, and all at once overwhelmed by how close they were. He could smell her scent, and the smell of her hair, and feel the heat emanating from her body.

_Get a grip, Draco._

He cleared his throat awkwardly, pointing the wand at her finger. "Episkey."

The wound healed. Not as well as he would have liked, but well enough. He made to drop her hand, but she suddenly clutched his fingers. "Thank you."

He opened his mouth to reply, but couldn't think of anything to say, and jerked his hand away from her. His fingers were tingling.

**Hermione's falling fast! ;) hahaha. **


	11. Kiss

**A/N: So … this is where it gets interesting. Draco starts to give in. Hermione is still making excuses, telling herself she isn't attracted to him …but we know she's deluding herself ;)**

_His strong fingers curled around her arms, drawing her closer to him, deeper onto him. _

_Hermione moaned blissfully. His body was strong, firm, hard beneath her. He was sweating a little; her damp thighs slipped sensuously against his skin as she moved faster, increasing the rhythm of their ecstasy—_

She woke with a startled exclamation. "Holy shit!"

"What?" Draco was staring at her, alarmed. Coke dripped off the table; he'd spilled it when she cried out.

"N-nothing."

"Ok …" He gave her an odd look and went to clean up the spilled drink.

Hermione hugged the blankets to her chest and tried to slow her racing heart. She'd never had such a realistic dream.

_Well. I wouldn't know how realistic it was_ … _but still. _It has been so vivid … she had seen his face – Malfoy's – and _felt—_

No. God. She couldn't think about it. It meant nothing anyway. One of the few things Professor Trelawny _had_ managed to teach her was that dreams often had hidden meanings. Just because she had dreamt about … that … didn't mean she actually wanted to … _God Hermione. Get a grip. _

She pulled the sheet around her body and quickly ran to the bathroom. She could feel Malfoy's eyes on her back. It made her feel uncomfortable. A hot feeling settled in the pit of her stomach, making her skin tingle.

As quickly as possible, she shed the sheets and hopped in the shower, hoping the hot water would wash away unwanted thoughts.

It didn't. Her skin continued to tingle. The hot feeling spread through her body, settling between her legs. Her breathing was ragged.

_Shit. _She was turned on.

Not that it mattered … she couldn't remember clearly whose face it had been. Perhaps she had only though it was Draco's because his was the first she had seen when she woke up. It could easily have been Ron. Or just a random person conjured up by her sleeping brain. Draco—_Malfoy,_ she corrected herself—might have nothing to do with it.

Her hand crept between her legs. She was wet. An involuntary moan slipped form her lips as her fingers brushed her sweetest spot. She was so turned on she didn't really care if Malfoy heard her or not. She let her back rest against the shower wall and spread her legs, feeling the hot water gush over her skin. Her fingers delved into the hotness of the inside of her body and slid out again, massaging her clit. She moaned. _Ah fuck. _It was good.

She did it again and again, feeling the hotness inside her build and build until she couldn't hold it back anymore and she came, shockwaves of pleasure rippling through her body from her core to her extremities. "Ahh, God …"

As soon as it was over, she jumped out the shower and towelled off, suddenly embarrassed at how loud she had been. She was certain he must have heard her. Although the sound of the shower could have drowned it out. She didn't know. She blushed.

When she opened the door, Malfoy was staring at her. He had heard then. She shrugged to herself. _Oh well. _It might actually have worked in her favour. Malfoy's eyes were wide, his pale cheeks tainted with colour. He glanced down at her damp exposed legs, looking quickly away as she met his eyes.

Hermione smiled, staring curiously at him. He had turned away from her, exposing the back of his neck. He looked strangely vulnerable. And yet there was no denying the broadness of his shoulders, the muscles in his back and arms. She was suddenly aware of the fact that she was still very turned on. She hadn't given herself time to finish in the shower.

A mischievous smile tilted her lips. Her arousal made her bold. Perhaps it was time to take her plan to the next level. Physical contact. But only just enough to tantalise him. He'd be eating out of her hand.

She grabbed a pair of shorts and a sheer off-the-shoulder t-shirt – both of which she had got Malfoy to purchase for her on his latest excursion – and quickly went into the bathroom to change.

…

Draco nearly jumped out his skin when Granger sat down next to him on the sofa. His already heightened senses skyrocketed – she smelled so good, and he could see the curve of her breasts through her t-shirt. Her skin was still dewy from the shower.

He felt his face grow hot. He was fairly certain he knew what she had been doing in there. The sound of her voice making those moans … he'd thought he was going to explode.

He fixed his eyes on the book in his hands, determined to ignore her.

"What're you reading?"

His pulse went through the roof. She was leaning over to look at his book. Her hair tickled his arm, setting his skin tingling.

"Uh …" His tongue seemed paralysed – he couldn't think of what to say.

_Come on Draco! She's _Hermione Granger _for God's sake! _

All he could think of was how he wanted to grab her pretty shoulders and pin her down on the sofa and – _oh fuck_. _What the hell am I thinking? _

With a start he realised he was staring at him expectantly, a hint of a smile playing around the corner of her mouth. He forced himself to speak.

"It's uh … called The Catcher in the Rye .. it's—"

"A Muggle book?" Her eyebrows rose in barely concealed shock. Draco blushed.

"It was … I mean. It was just there. I picked it up." He could tell she didn't believe him. Maybe he was imagining it, but he thought perhaps she was looking at him with a glimmer of newfound respect.

She shifted towards him on the sofa, leaning further to examine the book, and immediately his mind flipped back to its previous carnal thoughts. His heart beat fast and his stomach felt hot. He adjusted the book to cover his growing erection.

What the fuck was happening? _How _was she making him react like this? He didn't care. He just wanted her.

She laughed and glanced up from the page she was examining. He froze. Their faces were inches apart. But she didn't move quickly away as he expected. She looked straight into his eyes. Her lips were slightly parted – he saw her tongue flick over them. He tasted her hot, sweet breath.

Then, suddenly, without warning, she kissed him.

The violence of his reaction shocked even him. He grabbed her shoulders, yanking her body to him, pushing her back against the sofa, attacking her lips with his. Her mouth tasted sweet. His body burned with desire.

He heard her gasp, and with that small sound the world crashed back down on him like a wave of cold water. She was _Hermione Granger_. He had kidnapped her. What was he doing?

He pulled away, stumbling backwards. Tried to say something, apologise, scream at her for doing this to him – his lips mouthed soundlessly. He bolted from the room.

**A/N: Ooh drama o_O Review if you think it's about time they got down and dirty hahaha!**


	12. Out of control

**A/N: The whole situation comes to a head. **

Three days went by uneventfully. Hermione scowled at her reflection in the mirror. Since she kissed him, Malfoy had separated himself from her as far as possible. He had been spending longer and longer outside the hotel, and she had actually found herself worrying for his safe return.

She snorted. Her seduction plan was not progressing as expected. She had thought that with someone like Malfoy, physical attraction would be enough to have him falling at her feet. Now, it was clear that he was scared and confused of his attraction to her.

She pulled her hair out of its plait and ran her fingers through the curls. She'd put body lotion and perfume on already, and regretted the fact that she didn't have any make up with her. Some eyeliner would have done nicely. Still, she looked pretty.

She glanced at her reflection in the mirror again. She was wearing underwear and a button-down shirt, showing a bit of cleavage. It was definitely enough to seduce Malfoy. If only she could get him close enough.

She smiled. The answer was obvious. Tears. She already knew he was chivalrous, because he'd offered her the bed and mended her finger for her. If she cried in front of him, he would try and comfort her. He would see her vulnerable side, and instead of feeling confused, he would feel closer to her as his inbuilt masculine role as the protector kicked in. Then she could manipulate his feelings however she wanted.

Her smile slipped a little. Of course, as soon as he stopped fearing her attractiveness, he would want her even more. If he believed he had feelings for her, she would have to act as though she reciprocated his feelings in order to manipulate him. That meant more physical interaction.

He had obviously enjoyed the kiss before he broke it off. He would want more. Could she fool him into thinking she meant it? Probably.

But what if he tried to go further? The way he had reacted to her kiss had shocked her – it was obvious he _wanted_ her. She'd never done anything more than kissing. And she certainly wasn't planning on having her first time with _Draco Malfoy_.

No. She wouldn't let things go that far. She could keep it under control.

Abruptly, several images swirled into her mind. Malfoy standing with his back to her, the powerful muscles in his back rippling as he moved. His eyes – much darker than she had previously thought – as they locked with hers. The small frown on his brow as he mended her finger.

Butterflies stirred in her stomach.

She shook them off. She was just nervous about what she was about to do.

...

Draco twisted awkwardly on the sofa. He'd grown a lot in the past few months and the sofa was much too small to accommodate him. Plus the fact that his arousal was making it nearly impossible for him to find a comfortable position to lie in.

It was all Granger's fault. She'd come waltzing out of the bathroom wearing nothing more than underwear and a shirt. The sight of her long, slender legs had immediately sent his senses into overdrive. She was in bed now, with her back to him. Despite himself, he couldn't take his eyes off her. Her dark hair was tousled and the curve of her body beneath the blanket had his imagination working overtime.

_Calm, Draco._

He shifted onto his back and tried to think of anything but her. Since she had kissed him, he'd tried to keep the hell away from her. She confused him too much. His attraction to her felt like a betrayal of everything he knew.

And yet, somehow that seemed not to bother him as much as it had a few days ago. No one ever needed to know how he felt. And maybe it was time he did what _he _wanted. After all, he'd already killed a Death Eater. Having dirty thoughts about Granger was hardly going to make the situation worse. In fact, he might as well just enjoy it.

He didn't know why she had kissed him. Perhaps it had been a spur of the moment thing. Or a means of putting him off his guard. He didn't know. That in mind, it was probably for the best that he didn't let it happen again. But he'd still let himself think about her.

He was so engrossed in his thoughts that it took him a while to hear her. Once he became aware of it, he realised it had been going on for quite some time. Granger was crying.

He was stricken. He knew she was his enemy. He shouldn't care how she felt. But it was his fault she was here, and for some reason, the sound of her tears was painful to him.

"Granger?" He sat up on the sofa. "Are you ok?"

She didn't reply. The volume of her sobs subsided a little, but she didn't stop crying. Troubled, he stood up. Going to comfort her was the wrong thing to do, he knew. Firstly, no matter how much he desired her, they were still enemies. She had hated him for so long. Secondly, what comfort could he have to offer? He couldn't release her. And thirdly, being so close to her on a bed in the middle of the night was liable to make him lose all self-control.

But he couldn't just lie here and listen to her cry.

He padded across the room to the bed. "Granger, what's the matter?" He sat down on the bed, and tentatively touched her shoulder.

He couldn't see her face in the darkness, but he knew she was looking at him. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

His hand was still on her shoulder, and despite the situation, he noticed the heat of her skin through her thin shirt. He made to snatch his hand away, but suddenly she moved, and her fingers wound through his.

He bit back a gasp as a surge of electricity pulsed over his skin, painfully aware that his heart was thumping loud enough to be heard.

"I'm sorry," she said again. "I just … I worry about my family."

Draco hardly heard her over the rush of blood in his ears. His whole body throbbed, as though his veins were on fire. She was still clutching his hand.

"M—me too," he stuttered, aware that she was still crying softly. He stretched a shaky hand out to pat her on the back, and as he did so she moved, throwing him off balance. And then, suddenly, their bodies met and he was holding her in his arms.

His heart thundered as heat spread through his body. Her closeness was intoxicating. He felt guilty. He shouldn't be doing this. And certainly not _enjoying _it. She was crying into his bare shoulder; he felt her hot tears on his skin and shivered. Her body was firm and soft at the same time, and moulded perfectly into his. The smell of her hair, her skin, the heat of her body overwhelmed him and made him dizzy. He couldn't think.

He didn't know how long they sat there like that. Just that gradually, her sobs quietened and her tears dried. But she didn't let him go. Her arms snaked around his waist, pulling him closer.

"Granger …"

In the moonlight, he saw her raise her head. "Draco …"

For a split second, he was exhilarated at her use of his first name. Then, she kissed him.

…

Malfoy jerked as soon her lips met his. "Granger, what the f—"

She couldn't stop now. It was crucial to keep going. "Shhh." She pressed a finger to his lips and pulled him closer, running her hand down his smooth back.

He groaned as she slid her finger from his lips, running it down his neck. His hands found her face and cradled it gently as he kissed her back.

Hermione exulted. She had won. From the way he was kissing her, she knew he was hers. She threaded an arm around his neck, pulling him fully onto the bed. Dragging her lips away from his, she kissed his cheeks, his jaw, his neck. He groaned again, a deep guttural sound. She pushed him down onto the pillows, letting her body rest lightly on top of his as she slowly trailed her hands over his body.

His breathing was rapid and uneven. A small smile twisted her lips. She could manipulate him so easily. How could she have doubted? He was completely in her power.

Then, it changed.

Malfoy's hand tangled in her hair, pulling her head back as his lips grazed her jawline. He pushed her away from him, and for a moment she thought he was going to end their embrace. Then, she rolled onto her back and he was on top of her, crushing her into the bed.

She was abruptly aware that he wasn't wearing a shirt; his skin was searingly hot on hers, and damp. The musky smell of his body enveloped her.

He continued kissing her neck, each touch of his lips sending a jolt of electricity into her stomach. His hand brushed her waist and maintained its downward travel onto her bare thigh. His fingers dug into her flesh as he dragged her leg up around his waist.

Suddenly, she wasn't in control anymore.

"Malfoy!" She began to struggle, trying to push him away. "Please, stop!"

"Shut up."

One of his hands locked around her wrist, pinning her to the bed. With a thrill of fear, she realised how strong he was. She couldn't stop him. "Malfoy, please!"

He brought his mouth, hot and wet, back to hers, muffling her voice. His tongue traced the outline of her lips, and her breathing grew ragged.

"Malfoy—"

"I want you."

He kissed her hotly, sending shivers over her skin. Cold certainty settled in her stomach.

_He wasn't going to stop_.

**A/N: Double drama! Please write a review. Otherwise I'll get demotivated and leave this story alone for another year and you'll never know how Draco's impending demise makes the whole story canon-compliant. Ooh SPOILER!**


	13. Giving In

**A/N: Warning – graphic sex scene approaching!**

Hermione fought the urge to scream. This wasn't how it was meant to be, he wasn't meant to take control! She cursed her stupidity. Deep down, she'd known it might go this way. But she had ignored it, caught up in her plot, her revenge and – though she hated to admit it – her burgeoning attraction to him—

Real tears of fear pricked her eyes, but she fought to quell them. Panicking would make everything worse. "Malfoy, stop please, I don't want—"

She was cut off as he shifted on top of her, driving the air out of her lungs. His grip on her wrist tightened, trapping her arm above her head. As he moved, she felt his arousal press against her thigh, and gasped. He was rock hard.

She panicked. "Malfoy, please, no! I—"

He growled, a low animal sound. It frightened her. She was gasping for breath. "Please—"

He kissed her again, roughly. His breath was hot on her face and neck. He pressed his body to hers. The hand on her thigh travelled upwards again, and she gasped as it brushed her breast. He began to tug at the buttons on her shirt.

She screamed. "No! Malfoy, I—"

He stopped suddenly, his hand still at her breast. "Why are you calling me Malfoy? You called me Draco before …"

Hermione closed her eyes in relief that he had stopped. Her heart was racing, her breathing shallow.

"What is wrong with you?"

Her eyes flew open as he pushed her away angrily. "_You_ kissed _me_! _Twice! _You wanted me! What are you playing at?"

"No it's just … I swear, I just …" She floundered, unable to think of anything to say. Malfoy leaned over and flicked the bedside lamp on, and she sat up quickly, wincing. He was staring at her, his eyes hard and cold.

"What are you trying to do to me?"

She couldn't speak. Her brain scrabbled frantically, trying to come up with a reply. A wall of shame hit her. All along she'd been preoccupied with her petty revenge, her schoolday memories. She hadn't really bothered to consider the changes she'd noticed in him. And the hurt and loneliness behind his anger was all too real now. She was mortified.

"Why?" His voice was quiet, which made it sound all the more dangerous. Instinctively, she drew back.

"WHY? Fucking talk to me!"

His face contorting with rage, he reached out and grabbed the front of her shirt, yanking her towards him. The fabric ripped, buttons flying everywhere.

She screamed again, kicking at him. Her foot caught his jaw and he grunted in pain. His hand closed around her ankle, and he jerked her towards him. She lost her balance and fell onto her back. Immediately, he was on top of her again, this time both her hands tightly pinioned above her head. He thrust a knee between her legs.

Hermione whimpered, terrified. Her shirt was in tatters, leaving her almost naked. Malfoy glared down at her, his lip swollen and bruising from her kick.

"Why are you doing this?"

"I wasn't, I just … Malfoy—Draco. I'm so sorry … I thought—I didn't consider your— I'm sorry." This time, her tears were real.

Malfoy's eyebrows shot up in surprise, then drew together in a frown of consternation.

"Don't cry."

He released her hands and slowly a finger across her cheek, brushing away a tear. His eyes bored into hers, very dark, smouldering. She found herself unable to look away – he was almost hypnotic. His uncertainty seemed to have vanished, and now she was the one seduced by his gaze. She couldn't breathe.

Slowly, he lowered his face to hers, brushing her lips with his. His breath was hot; her pulse accelerated.

"I still want you …" he whispered.

One side of her automatically screamed _no_. But this wasn't the Malfoy she had known at school. He was someone else. And he was kissing her neck now, his lips burning a line across her throat and collarbone. She couldn't concentrate.

His hand drifted down to her thigh again, pulling her legs apart. She felt him hard against her.

Her nerve broke and she began to struggle.

"Please … I've never—I don't know how …"

He pulled away to look into her eyes again.

"Don't tell me … you're a virgin Hermione? Seriously?"

Her heart fluttered when he said her first name, and she blushed deeply at the word _virgin_, biting her lip.

His face broke into a smile which transformed it. At that moment she finally knew she wanted him.

Again, he bent his head, gently biting her neck. She moaned, half with carnal need and half with fear.

"Draco—"

"Shh." He covered her mouth briefly with his. "Just let me."

"Please—"

He cut her off, kissing her fiercely. She was finding it hard to breathe. His tongue traced her lips, coaxing them open. When she felt his tongue brush hers, she moaned involuntarily. He chuckled.

Suddenly, his hands were moving again. Goosebumps prickled on her skin and he slid a hand inside her ripped shirt, slowly moving it upwards until she felt him grasp her breast. Her breath was coming in ragged gasps, heat surging through her body and pooling just below her stomach. Draco threaded an arm round her waist, lifting her body upwards.

Suddenly, she felt her bra come undone. "What are you doing?"

He didn't answer, only pulled her bra upwards, off. She squirmed, trying to cover herself up. Her face flushed bright pink. "Draco, I'm not—"

Then her body arched as he grasped her erect nipple between his thumb and forefinger, rubbing it slowly. A deep moan escaped her lips. The heat between her legs intensified, and she became aware that she was wet.

Draco smirked, lowering his head to her breast. She felt him take her other nipple in his mouth, suckling gently. Pleasure flared in her body, and she arched her back again, whimpering. "Oh God …" She writhed, rubbing her thighs together. Draco reached down to grab her leg, forcing them apart.

She gasped as his fingers brushed the inside of her thigh. She could feel his hot, supple mouth on her breast as his hand slowly slid up her thigh. She had never felt anything so intense before. Her blood boiled, her heart thundered and she wanted him. God, she wanted him. He'd been right.

"Hermione …"

Her eyes opened in surprise when he said her first name. He caught and held her gaze as his fingers gently and insistently caressed the wet fabric of her panties. She moaned, her eyes glazed.

His mouth left her breast and she whimpered in disappointment, but now he was kissing her belly, his hands sliding down her waist, grasping her thighs and pushing them up and apart. Slowly, he pulled off her underwear. Her body tensed as the cool air caressed her most intimate area. She closed her eyes and gave into him.

His lips moved further down, between her legs. She felt his tongue dart against her skin, felt him take the lips of her opening and rub them slowly between his fingers, slicking them with her wetness. She moaned deeply.

"Oh Draco … God. Please …"

He slid one long finger slowly inside her, and she arched her back, whimpering at how good it felt. Then she felt his tongue caress her clit and she let out a low scream.

"Oh! Oh God yes, Draco …"

Slowly, he withdrew and pushed his finger back in, massaging, flicking, rubbing her clit with his tongue. Waves of pleasure radiated through her body, building, getting stronger, tightening her muscles with their intensity. She couldn't stop the moans slipping past her lips, urging him on. She'd never felt anything so good.

…

Draco smiled in triumph. Hermione Granger was all his.

Her eyes were shut, her cheeks flushed, soft moans of pleasure coming from her parted lips. He could tell she was close to coming – every muscle in her body bunched as she moved her hips towards him, silently begging him to continue.

He did not. The moment he pulled away from her, her eyes sprang open, suddenly anxious. He met her eyes reassuringly, held her gaze as he pulled down the zipper of his jeans.

He almost laughed at the way her eyes widened when she saw how hard he was. What she did not expect was for her to immediately crawl to her knees and reach for him.

Without a word, she tentatively slid her tongue up the underside of his throbbing dick.

"Ah … yes."

Encouraged by this reaction, she grasped him and slid her mouth over his shaft. Draco's eyes rolled back in his head. It was fucking good.

He let her continue for a few moments, growling his approval. He wanted her so much. He couldn't wait any longer.

Tangling his hand in her hair, he pulled her mouth away from his dick, forcing her back down onto the bed. She wasn't speaking anymore, but she held his gaze and he knew from the look in her eyes that she was ready. He thrust a knee between her legs, spreading them, as he lowered his body to hers. Her hands crept up to his shoulders, her fingers digging into his skin, encouraging him.

She gasped as he found her wet entrance and slowly slid himself inside her. Her face bunched and she let out a short cry of pain. He stopped.

"Is this ok?"

"Y-yes …"

He pushed deeper inside her and she cried out again, but this time rocked her hips up to meet him. Her muscles contracted, warm and slippery, stroking his dick inside her. He groaned. It felt so good.

"Ah … fuck Hermione."

He began moving inside her, sliding in, coming almost all the way out and back in again. Her moans became rhythmic, her nails dug into his back and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He felt the orgasm building in his body, and tried to hold it back – he didn't want this to stop. She was so tight, so wet and she gasped his name as he thrust into her.

"Oh my God, Draco, oh my—Fuck!"

He felt the quivers of her orgasm around his dick. She screamed. He couldn't hold back anymore; he let go, let the pleasure crash through his body, obliterating all his thoughts as he came into her.

Spent, and damp with sweat, he collapsed beside her. She was panting, her hair sticking to her face and neck. Without a word he took her in his arms and held her.

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed haha. Oh and I've decided there WILL be a rape scene in this fic, but the rapist is NOT Draco. Let me know what you think about this?**


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